


Behind the Crimson Curtain - A Yuri Short Story

by NegativeCharge



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen, Mind Manipulation, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24865960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NegativeCharge/pseuds/NegativeCharge
Summary: A short story following immediately on from the events of the Sunday event where the Protagonist and Yuri work together, from Yuri's perspective.
Kudos: 5





	Behind the Crimson Curtain - A Yuri Short Story

Today has been a rollercoaster of tension. With my anxiety flaring up and subsiding just as quickly, all because of him. He does this to me, he makes me feel this way, safe..happy.. wanted.. Glancing up from behind my hair, my usual defence mechanism not doing much to shield me from this warmth. He is finishing up the last few pieces on his side of the banner. Our main project of the day.

It's also what has been one of the biggest problem causes. We should have finished a while ago, I could have helped him finish his side. I was going to, but that moment earlier, with the warm cloth on my neck. Just thinking about it makes me blush and hide. I can't believe I grabbed his wrist.. it did feel good though..

But all good things must come to an end.

Our time working together is over, carefully we place the banner spread out across a table to finish drying. Tidying all of the paints and brushes we used away to be washed. Cringing slightly at the sight of a brush with red paint in its bristles. Reminding me of what I did earlier with his finger when he pricked it on the blade we were using for the ribbons. I didn't even think. It just happened, but he was able to laugh it off.. accepting my weirdness.. Another awkward moment that seemingly turned in my favour, giving me this warmth in my chest.

Making as much idle small talk as I can bring myself to, which is far more than normal. Even with the other club members. As we step out the front of his home, the conversation I've been both playing over in my head and also hoping wouldn't be happening is about to begin. If I want this to go smoothly, I should be the one to speak first.

“Thank you for having me today.”

“No problem, I'm glad I was able to help. Just let me know if there's anything else you need me to bring tomorrow.”

“I will.”

Nervously fidgeting with my hair, I guess this is it for today. Our first time properly alone together.

“Well, then...I guess I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Yuri, wait. About today... It's fine that we didn't have as much time as we wanted, because we can do this again. Whenever you want, you can come over, or we can go out somewhere...Ah.. I forgot you don't like going out much..”

I can only bring myself to smile bashfully, he's not wrong. But I think I could manage if he was with me..

“You know what I'm trying to say Yuri..”

“You're very thoughtful.. I kind of like that about you..”

What is going on?! I've stepped forward and started gently squeezing his hand. Am I going too quickly? Is this right? I have no idea what I'm doing. Not more than a few days ago I struggled to hold a conversation with my own friends. Now this? We.. both seem to be leaning forward.. It's like the moment in his room all over again. Are we.. is this.. going to be my.. first...

Leaning in slowly, just as I'm about to shut my eyes and leave what happens next to fate, I catch a glimpse of a familiar pink shirt and denim shorts over his shoulder. Causing me to leap backwards like a cat that has just had its tail tread on.

Why.. Why now...

“Sayori?!”

“Ah.. Hi guys..”

“Sayori! Just now.. we weren't..”

“Ehehehe, It's okay.. I just stopped by to say hi..”

Liar.. You did this on purpose.. I should really respond, otherwise I'm just going to be stood here looking guilty when I haven't done anything wrong at all. I know she likes him, but she isn't his girlfriend. He doesn't belong to anyone.

Not yet.

“Well.. It's nice to see you.. I'm sorry, but I'm already on my way to leave!”

“Awww really? That's too bad...”

_Liar._

“But we'll all be together at the festival tomorrow, so.. that's fine, right?”

“Of course!”

“Yeah... so.. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Walking quickly towards home, turning the corner only a few metres from where we were all standing. I lean up against the fence holding my hands up to my eyes. Am I angry? Am I upset? That could have been my chance. My moment to cast aside these shackles of loneliness. After all, he understands me. Accepts me. Taking the pen from my pocket that may have come from his nightstand. Holding it tightly in both hands, close enough to try and get any trace of his scent from it. The only thing stopping me from drowning in thoughts of today are the two background voices who have now restarted their conversation.

I can still hear them.. They don't know I'm here..

She interrupted my moment. To confess to him how she felt. How we all knew she felt. I don't even need to peek round the corner to know that she has tears in her eyes. Or to see the clearly stunned expression on his face as both Sayori and I wait for his answer.

“Sayori.. I love you.”

Those three words. Three powerful yet innocent words that turn the warmth from my chest into an inferno, an uncontrollable inferno that I can't hope to contain. Refusal to hear any more has carried me away from where I was listening from. Towards home. Much faster than I'm normally capable of, said inferno being used to fuel my need to escape. Until I'm in my room, breathing heavily from my out of the ordinary activity of running all the way home, from a boys house no less.

  
I can feel the pressure that those three words have caused, burning. Screaming to be eased. I can't, not yet. I know more than anyone that my methods are frowned upon, unhealthy. But there is a certain level of etiquette to this. What others believe to be mindless damage. I certainly do not do this for the sole purpose of something that could be compared to a grotesque horror film, mindless gore this is not. I will calm down first, allow my heart rate to settle. An elevated heart rate to begin with is undesirable to say the least.

Taking my time, the pressure still building as I sit to brew some tea, waiting for the oil diffuser to begin taking effect. Without something to properly occupy my thoughts however, I hear those three words again, and again. I was hoping to at least alleviate some of the pressure a while longer. It forces me to my feet, to my collection. Tracing my fingers slowly over the different intricate handles one after the other. Making sure not to touch the blades, after all we wouldn't want any more mistakes today... Today.

Reaching into the bag I had taken to his house, I've already removed most of the items I brought home. Lifting out the intricately waved silver handle, revealing the gently blue tinted blade. Turning it slowly in my hands, rolling the handle in the palm of one hand using the thumb of the other. Remembering how he has pricked his finger on the end failing to deter me. I've made my choice.

Removing my jumper as I step into my bathroom, stopping to look at myself in the mirror above the sink. Nothing out of the ordinary by usual standards, the same pale skinned girl staring back at me from every single time I've ever done this. Tracing my fingers over my previous pressure releases on both arms. I guess it has been a little while since the last time. Running the flat side of the blade across my skin, hoping the temperature difference might ease the pressure caused by those three damn words.

Those three words that should have been mine... I..can't think like this.. Not right now.. Besides, Sayori is one of my closest and well, only friends. I've known she liked him since before she even brought him to join the literature club, always singing their praises and speaking so highly of them.

Closing my eyes tightly, allowing the muscle memory to take over, rolling the handle until the chilly feeling of the flat blade has vanished, with only an all too familiar pressure remaining, both on the outside and from within.

_I'm.. Happy for her.. I'm happy for them.._

_Happy.. for her.._

Exhaling slowly as the first line appears on my left arm, my breathing matching the pace of the blade. Inhaling in the same manner, keeping myself under control during this is the key. Looking down at the newly carved line, not too deep, but also not enough. I'm going to have to do more. It was an eventful day after all.

“I love you”

_I'm happy. For them.. So much so that I can even say it out loud._

“I.... I...”

The forced vocal exercise replacing my normal method of breath control. I will say it. I will keep going until I can. They are my friends. Moving my hand to a new part of my arm as the next line is finished without stopping to look. I must do this.

“I... why...”

“why...”

“Why?”

“WHY?!”

“WHY IS IT NEVER ME?!”

“WHY CAN'T I BE THE ONE?!”

“WHY CAN'T I BE HAPPY?!”

  
Each attempt a new line, becoming more and more aggressive, abandoning my normal control. I can feel the pain. Immediate and considerably more intense than normal. Causing me to grit my teeth and open my eyes to look at what I've done.

Deeper than any others I've ever given myself. More blood flowing down my arms than the last several times combined. Yet I'm not done. This pressure needs to be let out, it burns, it itches, I can feel it in every artery and every vein. Never has it been so aggressive, something has changed. By now it should have been more than quelled, but it's worse now than when I began I still have another arm, a second canvas. Swapping to my other hand, which is shaking from what I've just done. My inner self screaming for me to stop, that everything about this is wrong.

Looking up at the mirror, the girl for the first time is wearing an unnerving smile, matched only by her eyes. Eyes that stay locked on my own as the next few lines appear on my right arm. Her expression unchanging. Something isn't right, that isn't me. It's my face, my hair, but those eyes. They aren't mine. Watching intently as it looks like they have a slight green imperfections, calmly swirling around my irises. Like it's a physical manifestation of envy, but it feels like it's more than that. I should be freaking out, but something about it is so familiar, like I know them. That I trust them. As their almost soothing dance around my dilated pupils becomes more vigorous, I can feel my arm moving again.

“IT WOULD HAVE BEEN ME”

“IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME”

“I JUST WANT”

“TO BE LOVED”

The final two lines unable to have speech attached, instead as the pain of what I'm doing takes hold all I can muster are two loud guttural cries as I try and force the last of the unyielding pressure out of myself. Screams wrought both in the agony of losing what could have been, and of what I've just inflicted upon myself because of it. My usual calm methods thrown to the wind as my heart took over. My hand from my first arm which now contained the handle, unable to hold it any longer as it drops into the sink, the loud sound of the metal hitting the ceramic snapping me from my haze as it rattles around before stopping with the blade above the open plug, what remained on the blade dripping hypnotically onto the metal surround and spreading around the circle, joined shortly by what is flowing down my arms. My breathing laboured as I survey what I've done. The second arm looking worse than the first.

Lifting my head back up to my reflections, those green imperfections having returned to their slow melodic pace of skating around. Like two fireflies dancing hypnotically around with no real discernible pattern. Leaning forward to carefully inspect what they could be, again feeling the familiarity. Shifting my gaze around, stopping eventually on my pupils. With what looks to be the outline of a person in them, with a stance I've only ever seen one person use.

“Mon..”

Snapping away from the mirror with my eyes shut, the cause a sudden influx of pain being brought on by water from the taps running over my fresh wounds. Staining the water a potent red as it swirls around and washing over the blade of the knife that still sat where it had fallen to in the sink. it takes a little while for the colour of the water to ease, the same unable to be said for the stinging. A constant reminder that with what just happened I walked over the line and then broke into a sprint. Normally I can get away with rinsing and cleaning the wounds, this time I'm going to have to bandage them. If I'm lucky I may even get away without stitches, wishful thinking and highly unlikely, but bandaging them is all I can do for now.

With my arms in the condition they are in, applying the antiseptic cream was difficult enough. If I thought I knew painful before, even though I knew it was for the best, it was enough to bring tears to my eyes. Taking even longer to subside than that of when the water first washed over them. The bandages were even harder to apply and didn't exactly hide anything. Red lines showing up gradually from underneath, revealing the exact location of each new cut. The bandages by no means being perfect, like I was putting them on in a hurry so that I could get back to checking on what worried me the most.

Standing back up, in so much of a rush I almost lose my balance. I face the mirror with my eyes shut. I want and need to know, but I'm afraid. It takes a few minutes, but I do manage to open my right eye, to find nothing. In surprise I open my left. Scanning my eyes over and over, they are exactly as they should be. No imperfection dancing teasingly around. Just my own eyes.

Step by step, the journey to my bed seems like an uphill struggle, the moon shining through my window between a gap in the curtains like it's trying to guide me to my destination. I've never lost so much blood in one session before, every few steps having to regain my balance on the wall. What should have been a 5 second journey from my bathroom to my bed has taken several minutes. Pulling back the covers to fall straight in, slight twinges of pain from my arms as I move myself to my routine sleeping position. With how I feel right now, it doesn't take long until I'm out.

Throwing myself upright, gasping for breath. A comforting warmth in my chest, one that I recognise from the day before, from when I was around him, it's almost enough to drown out the nagging protests of both of my arms still stinging underneath their bandages to remind me of my actions. Looking around my room in a panic. Feeling like I'm not alone, everything is where I left it. Shifting my legs so that my feet touch the floor before taking a fleeting glance at my clock. 2:47am, I've been asleep for a few hours now, still feeling a little weak but it's a vast improvement on earlier. Standing to my feet, taking small steps towards the curtains to close the curtains properly. Stopping and letting my arms drop to my sides as my eyes catch the large standing mirror in the corner.

The imperfections are back, larger than before. Dancing, teasing. Each time they speed up momentarily, I feel the warmth grow in my chest, images of those moments we had flashing in my head. Leaving me breathing heavily to the point I almost feel breathless. What is happening to me? I try to look away from the mirror, at anything else in my room. I don't want to see them, but being cognizant of those mocking green fireflies keeps me looking back. Forcing my eyes shut, losing my balance and stumbling side wards until I hit my solid writing bureau. My hand landing on a cool metal object, instinctively wrapping my fingers around it and lifting it to my chest as I tumble backwards from the impact. Opening my eyes to find myself sitting in front of my mirror. In my hand is his pen, the very same pen I stole from his nightstand.

It's cool metal casing caressing my top lip as I find myself doing exactly what I did when I left the two of them alone. Fervently trying to get any trace I can of him. The two imperfections going wild as my lips close around where I've seen him put the pen to his mouth when trying to think during club hours. The warmth in my chest becoming an raging inferno like it had done before, but feeling like it needed immediate relief. With my arms how they are right now, another session like that is out of the question, I couldn't use my legs for such a thing either because of our school uniform. I need a new outlet.

The girl in the mirror staring back at me, her shoulders began shaking. Like she is laughing but I can't hear anyone. As her eyes dart back and forth between looking back at me and the pen in my hand. The green imperfections almost now covering the entire iris to the point you could say those eyes were no longer my own. Looking down at the pen in my hand, I feel an almost electric shudder flow down my insides.

My shoulders began to shake along with my reflections, my normally almost silent laughter becoming louder as I stand to my feet. The girl looking back at me has the same expression she wore in the bathroom earlier, an unnerving smile as she laughs along with me. Stopping as my breathing becomes as excited as those dancing imperfections had been, I watch as her mouth moves and I can hear the words. The voice is mine but the words are not.

“Act one had to end eventually.”


End file.
